“How much?” I asked.
He grinned at me, but I could tell he was tense, saying the number. “I think three million should do it.”
On Bastien’s knee, Amy made a little sound of shock. Gray looked at his hands.
“Three million,” I said.
There was silence in the room, except for the fucking godawful stripper music. Everyone was waiting for me to say something. I looked around at them. No one thought I had that kind of money.
“I can probably get that,” I said, surprising all of them. “But what’s in it for me?”
Bastien found his voice. “It’s an investment.” He ran his hands up and down Amy again. She stared at me. “You’ll get your money back.”
“Sure,” I said. “No one’s used that line before.”
“You will. This is a big deal, my friend. A big deal. You get the money, you supply the house and the cover, and you’re in for a big cut. Your money back and a lot, lot more. You think you’re a rich man now? Partner with me, and you have no idea. No idea.”
As a sales pitch, it was pretty lame, except for the fact that I believed him. About the shipment, if not about my future life of riches. I could say no, tell him to go fuck himself. But something told me that stringing him along was the less dangerous option. The option less likely to get me—or anyone else—killed.
I looked in Amy’s lined, mascaraed eyes for a minute. I’d heard enough. “Four days,” I said.
“That’s when the ship comes in,” Bastien said. “Yessir.”
“Do I have a choice?” I asked.
Bastien looked at me. Then he looked at Gray for the first time. He looked back at me again. He still didn’t look at Amy. He laughed.
“We all think we have a choice, don’t we?” he said. “And we’re all so very, very fucking wrong.”
Nineteen
Olivia
On Friday night, they wanted me to stay late at work. And for the first time, I said no.
“I have plans,” I said.
Corey glanced at Mikael, the project manager, with a baffled look, as if he’d never heard of this. Mikael frowned. Corey turned back to me. “But we aren’t finished the mockups for the l’Orifice presentation.”
I gagged inside. L’Orifice was a high-fashion clothing brand that always featured models who looked hungry and miserable, modeling expensive clothes no one would wear. But I focused on logic, not on my revulsion. “The mockups aren’t due until next Wednesday.”
“But we have meetings before then,” Mikael said. “We need to get these mockups done.”
I gritted my teeth. “Then have fun,” I said. “But again, it’s Friday night. And I have plans.” I turned to my desk, opened the drawer, and pulled my purse out. “Good night.”
“Olivia,” Corey said, chiding. “This is a disappointment.”
I turned and looked at him. “I’ve been working here for nearly three years,” I said. “I’ve put in all the hours you told me to. I’ve worked hard. I’ve had no life. I haven’t had a raise, a promotion, or even a hint of either one. I haven’t even had a pat on the back. So don’t be surprised when I have something else to do.”
“You have to pay your dues to move up in this business,” he said.
“Then I’ll move up a week later than I’d planned,” I said to him. “Good night.”
It maybe wasn’t my best move. But suddenly, I didn’t care.
Still, after an exit like that, I was happy that when I flounced out the door and onto the street, I found my ride waiting for me.
Devon Wilder.